It Was Supposed To Be A Simple Case
by Gwenyth Hunter
Summary: “We have multiple officers down! I repeat, multiple officers down. We need paramedics now!”
1. Disclaimer

Title:  It Was Supposed to be a Simple Case  
  


Rating:  PG-13.  Possibly R later.  Language, violence.  
  


Category:  Drama

Spoilers:  Who Are You?, Boom, Overload, Stalker and possibly a few others

Pairings:  none yet  
  


Summary:  "We have multiple officers down!  I repeat, multiple officers down.  We need paramedics now!"

Disclaimer:  CSI and its characters belong to Anthony Zuiker, Jerry Bruckheimer and whoever else has all the money, power and prestige.  I own none of them.  Although if I owned Nick … Mmmmm … Oopps!  Sorry, my mind wandered off there.

Authors' notes:  This little plot bunny attacked me (I tell you, they can be violent little bastards) when I was watching my CSI DVDs, specifically Who Are You? and Nick had the gun pulled on him.  And I got to thinking.  Always dangerous.

Any other notes I have will be at the end of the chapters, so as not to spoil anything before hand.  Heehee!


	2. Chapter 1

Gil Grissom stood in the parking lot across the street from Luna's Diner surveying the crime scene.  Two drive-by gang shootings had taken place there in five hours and thirty-three minutes.  He knew this all too well.

He watched as the last few victims were loaded into waiting ambulances to be taken to the morgue.  The body count was at seven dead and four wounded – two of those critically.

Grissom knew he needed to get his team focused on collecting evidence.  Evidence was the key.

Evidence would help them find whoever had hurt their own.

*****

Eight and a half hours earlier … 

Grissom was in the break room pouring himself a cup of coffee while he waited for his crew to arrive for their shift.  He already had their assignments prepared.

He grimaced as he took a sip of his beverage, amazed at the sludge some people considered coffee.  He went to the sink and proceeded to pour it down the drain.  To him, this meant Greg Sanders hadn't arrived yet.  The young lab technician had a predilection for gourmet coffee.  Often he brought his favorite blends in and hid the supply.

"I take it Greg's not in yet?" Sara Sidle said, entering the room as Grissom tossed his Styrofoam cup in the trash.

"Either that, or he's trying to poison me."

Sara nodded and seated herself on the couch while Grissom started the search for Greg's stash of coffee.

"Grissom, man.  You'll never find Greggo's stash," Nick Stokes said as he leaned against the doorframe, smirk on his face as he watched his boss.  

Warrick Brown chuckled from where he stood behind Nick.  "Yeah Gris.  The little rat's too good at hiding the stuff.  We've tried and come up with jack."

Warrick then felt himself shoved into Nick's back, causing them both to stumble forward.  Thankfully they both kept their balance.  The pair turned to see Catherine Willows standing there, hands planted on hips and a smirk gracing her face.

"Didn't your mothers teach you boys not stand in the doorway?  Other people need into the room too."

"Well hello to you too, Cath," Warrick said, mild sarcasm tingeing his voice.

"Now that we're all here," Grissom stated, having since given up his search for Greg's secret stash, "I have assignments to hand out."  He picked two folders off the counter.  He handed one to Sara.  "You and Warrick have a apparent suicide at the Westwood Apartments."  The other folder he handed to Nick.  "You and Catherine are with me.  DB at the Sands."

With that everyone headed off to their assignments.

At the Sands … 

Detective Lockwood approached the trio of CSIs when they arrived.  "Hey," he greeted, and then explained what was happening.  "Victim's name is Mark Little.  He and his wife, Lisa, were meeting an out of town friend for dinner and the guy drops dead while walking through the lobby.  The friend, Robert Lewis, thought it was a heart attack, but couldn't revive him.  Paramedics arrived and couldn't do a thing either.  Wife claims it can't be a heart attack because he had not history of heart problems and he's a healthy man in his early forties.  She's freaking out, thinking someone poisoned him or something."

"Okay," Grissom said.  "Catherine take pictures.  Nick question the friend.  I'll talk with the wife."

Nick nodded and left while Catherine took out the camera and began snapping off pictures of the body.

Grissom and Lockwood approached a woman in her mid thirties.  She had dark hair and green eyes.  The woman was obviously distraught over her husband's death.  Although Grissom couldn't rule her out as a suspect until he had all the evidence analyzed.

But it doesn't mean I'll be rude, he thought as he flashed her a sympathetic smile.  "Mrs. Little?  I'm sorry for your loss.  My name's Gil Grissom and I'm with the Las Vegas Crime Lab.  I just wanted to ask you a few questions."

The woman looked up at him with a tear-streaked face.  "O – okay."

"You told the detective earlier that your husband had no history of heart problems.  Is it possible that it runs in his family?"

"No.  Uh, no one in his family ever had heart disease or anything like that."

"So you believe he was poisoned?

"Yeah – yes.  I mean, what else could it be?  He is – was a healthy man.  We always jogged together.  He liked to lift weights.  Mark was always taking care of himself."

"Was he on any sort of medications?"

"Um, just pain killers.  He – uh, he had knee surgery a few weeks ago.  Fell while running a marathon and messed it up.  He's only been on it for the last week.  Mark took a couple pills when we left and sat in the back seat on the way here so he could elevate it while they kicked in."

"Do you have those pills with you?"

Lisa began to dig in her purse.  "Here they ar – are."  She held up a prescription bottle of Vicodin.  "Do you think someone put something in his pills?" she sobbed.

"I don't know.  But I need to consider all the possibilities."

Nodding wordlessly she handed him the bottle of pills.

Nick was questioning Robert Lewis.  And in his estimation the man was in shock.  Although it could be an act, Nick didn't think so.  But he knew how Grissom felt.  Everyone was a suspect till the evidence eliminated them.

"So you performed CPR and couldn't revive him?"

The man nodded wordlessly.

"Do you know if Mr. Little had any health problems that could have caused his death?"

Robert swallowed.  "No."  The man's voice cracked on the one word.  "Only problem I know of was his knee surgery.  Guess he did it running or something."

"Well, Mr. Lewis, if there's anything you can think of that will help give me a call.  Okay?"  Nick stood and looked at the man compassionately.  The man simply nodded.


	3. Chapter 2

At the Westwood Apartments … 

The Westwood Apartments were one of those low-income jobs.  It reminded Sara of a cheap motel.  There were three floors and an open walkway on each floor lined on the east side by thirty apartments.  As she and Warrick exited the Tahoe they saw Sergeant O'Riley waiting on the second floor balcony for their arrival.  "Guy's name is Brian Collins.  Looks like suicide," he said as they came abreast of him.  "Only thing is, no note."

"Well, that's unusual for a suicide," Sara observed.

O'Riley just hummed in agreement.

"So how did he supposedly off himself?" Warrick asked.

"Shot gun in the mouth."

"Oh, like that's not suspicious," Sara remarked wryly.  "Have you been able to question the neighbors?"

"My guys are working on it.  But I had them save the immediate neighbors on either side for you.  They'd probably have a better feel for the guy than anyone else who lives here."

"Good point," Warrick said.

Sara and Warrick both grimaced when they entered the apartment.  Dead bodies were never really pleasant if one thought about it, but bodies that had their brains blown out through the back of their skull went way beyond "not pleasant."

Sara began snapping photos as Warrick left to question one of the neighbors.

Dylan Turner and Matt Royce were both second year college students and childhood friends sharing their first apartment.  And now they were seriously considering moving.

Warrick sympathized.  He remembered his first apartment.  Cheap was the key word.  And if someone had either killed themselves or been killed next door, he would have been packed and out of there before you could blink.

"What was Mr. Collins like?"

Dylan had a wide-eyed look of bewilderment on his face, while Matt just looked angry over this disturbance in his life.  "Brian was kind of a freak," the latter explained.

"What do you mean a freak?"

"Well he worked as a drag queen."

Warrick nodded and jotted down a note.  "Were people around here bothered by this?"

"Yeah, a few.  It kinda squicked me.  But he could be cool."  Matt then offered a shrug.

"Yeah, that happens sometimes," Warrick agreed lightly, wondering if it "squicked" someone enough to kill Brian Collins.  "So, did you see or hear anything unusual before the shot?"

Dylan seemed to finally be coming out of his daze.  "Um, Jimmy from – from 306 was there, like a half hour before or something.  Just for, like five minutes.  They were yelling at each other, then Jimmy slammed outta there."

"Jimmy?"

"Uh, Jimmy Baker," Matt explained.  "Big homophobe.  If you ask me he's in the closet though."

"R – right," Dylan agreed.  "I think Brian had a crush on him or something."

"Do you know if Jimmy came back?"

Matt and Dylan both regarded him in shock.  "Dude, you think Jimmy killed him?" Matt's voice squeaked out.

"I can't rule out all the possibilities."

"Um – uh, can we stay somewhere else tonight, or do we nee – need to stay here?" Dylan asked nervously.

"You can stay somewhere else.  Just give me your cell numbers or someplace I can reach you if I have anymore questions."  
  


"Kay," Matt said as Dylan simply nodded.

Sara and O'Riley were discussing how her interview with Collins' neighbor, Tara Clay, had gone.  Tara lived in 210, Collins in 211 and Dylan and Matt in 212.  She said she had only been home for ten or fifteen minutes when she heard the gun shot and had stayed in her apartment out of fear.  Warrick came up to inform them of his results.

"O'Riley, did you interview the guy in 306?"

O'Riley opened his little notebook and began flipping through the pages.  "Uh, Jimmy Baker, right?"

Warrick nodded.  "That'd be the one.  What'd he have to say?"

"Just that he saw the guy around the complex occasionally.  Thought he worked at some drag club."

"Well the guys in 212 said he was over at Collins about half an hour before he died arguing, then stormed out of there."

"Really," Sara said arching an eyebrow.  "Interesting."

"Do you want to question Baker here, or back at the lab?" O'Riley asked.

"Let's just do it here."

Jimmy Baker was a large man, standing at well over six feet and built like a linebacker.  Warrick wasn't one to intimidate easily, but this man made him feel a little anxious.  Jimmy could easily break the CSI in two.  "Mr. Baker," he began, a little secure in the knowledge that he, Sara and O'Riley – who were flanking him – were armed incase the man decided to do just that.  "When was the last time you saw or spoke to Mr. Collins?"

"I already gave my statement to that guy," he snapped, gesturing toward O'Riley.

"Yeah, I know.  But I just need to hear it for myself."

"It was yesterday morning when I ran into him in the laundry room."

"Well according to two witnesses you were in his apartment arguing with him about thirty minutes before his death."

The man paled slightly.  "Wha – what?  I …"

"Were you there?" O'Riley prodded.

"Uh – yeah.  I – I went to tell him to leave me alone.  He was attracted to me, but I had no interest.  I was – I was only there a couple minutes.  He wouldn't listen to me so I left.  Do you think I killed him?  No fuckin' way!"

"What do you do for a living?" Warrick asked.

"Huh?  What's that got to do with this?"

"Just curious.  So I also know where to contact you if I need to."

"Oh.  Well, I'm a wrestler.  You know, over at the coliseum.  I hope to go pro eventually."

"Well, don't plan on leaving town and go professional," O'Riley warned.  "We may just need you."

Jimmy nodded as they left his apartment.


	4. Chapter 3

Back at the Lab … 

Grissom arrived with Catherine and Nick, the latter toting a large majority of the equipment, mumbling something about being "grateful Cath sent the evidence ahead."  Catherine smiled. 

"Nicky, go check with Greg to see if he's finished analyzing Mr. Little's prescription.  I need to know if they was anything besides Vicodin in that bottle."

"Sure thing, boss."  He gave a teasing salute and headed for Greg's lab.

"Cath, you want to come with me to see Al?"

Catherine gave him a lopsided smile.  "Sure."

Nick found Greg doing his usual bit of dancing around the lab while listening to his music.  Nick recognized the song playing as When I'm Gone by 3 Doors Down.  It was one of his favorite songs.  People tended to think that since he was from Texas that all he listened to was country music.  But Nick actually listened to a lot of rock too.

He reached over and turned the volume down to get the lab tech's attention.  "As much as I like this song, I need to know if you've got anything for me Greggo."

"Oh, hey Nick," Greg said casually.  "I just finished running samples from your guy's prescription bottle.  Nothing out of place, just your usual fill of Vicodin for pain.  No traces of anything else."

Nick scratched the back of his neck.  "This is really starting to look like a simple heart attack to me.  But the wife said he was a healthy guy.  No history of heart disease in the family."  He let out a sigh.  "Thanks anyway."

"No prob, Nicky.  I got to get back to running blood samples Warrick and Sara just brought in."  With that Greg reached over and turned the volume up, giving Nick a cocky smirk.  Nick chuckled and left.

Catherine and Grissom made a detour for the break room, hoping that Greg had made some of his coffee before banishing himself to the lab to run tests.  Warrick and Sara were seated at the table sipping steaming coffee out of Styrofoam cups.

"Greg must have made his coffee," Catherine said.

Warrick nodded wearily.  She looked from him to Sara, who also looked drained.  "Jeeze guys.  You've only been on this case for what? Two hours.  You look like you've been at it for days."

"Shot gun blast to the head," Warrick said flatly.

"Gross," Catherine hissed in sympathy.  Never a nice picture.

"So how's your case going?" Sara finally asked.

"Weird.  Perfectly healthy guy drops dead for no reason.  Wife thinks someone poisoned him."

"Nick's checking for Greg's results now," Grissom added, handing Catherine a cup of coffee.  She accepted it gratefully and sipped carefully.  Grissom took a drink of his, oblivious of the scalding liquid.

"Hey Gris," Nick poked his head into the room.  "Got Greg's results."  He held the sheet of paper aloft.  "Simple pain killers, man.  Nothin' more.  I'm going to check if he had any other prescriptions Mrs. Little may have forgotten or not known about."

"Good idea Nick," Grissom said.  Nick gave a nod and was off again.

"Well, Catherine.  You ready to go see our body?"

She rolled her eyes and downed the last of the contents in her cup.  "Sure thing."

Warrick popped into Greg's lab to see if he had any results.  This time the "lab rat" was listening to his Staind CD.  The song playing was It's Been Awhile.  Warrick chuckled as the paused the CD.

"What is this?" Greg asked as he swiveled around in his chair.  "Pick on Greg Day?"  Sarcasm was dripping from his voice.

"No, it called Greg is at Work Day."

Greg sighed in defeat and rolled himself to the printer, where the last of the results were being printed.  He took the paper and glanced at it before passing it to Warrick.  "All blood samples are from your vic, except one.  Unknown donor."

Warrick looked up from the paper and smiled.  "Right now, I have my suspicions on my 'unknown' donor.  Thanks Greg."

Greg waved a hand at him that said "don't mention it" and went back to his samples as Warrick walked away.

Grissom and Catherine were in scrubs and about to enter the morgue when Grissom's cell phone rang.  "Grissom."

"Gil, it's Jim.  I need one of your guys to process the scene of a drive-by."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, calculating who would be the best candidate.  "Sure, I'll send Nick on over."

"Alright.  Corner of Ballard and Moss.  Lot across from Luna's Diner."

"Got it."

Grissom disconnected the call, and then dialed Nick's cell phone as he and Catherine pushed open the door to see what Al Robbins had on their body.

"Stokes."

"Nicky, I need you to meet Brass at the corner of Ballard and Moss in the parking lot across from Luna's Diner.  Drive-by"

"Aww, man," Nick whined.  "You know those suck, don't you?"

"I know.  You still have to go."

Nick sighed.  "Okay."

Grissom hung up and turned his attention to Doc Robbins.

*****

AN:  Heehee!  I just had to have Greggo listening to 3 Doors Down and Staind – a couple of my favorite bands. ;)  And besides, 3 Doors Down is coming to the Oregon State Fair in Aug. and my friend and I got our tickets a while back.  So I'm feeling giddy every time I hear one of their songs.  And as for Nick liking 3 Doors Down, every Nick story I've read has him as a country music fan.  But in the ep Abra Cadaver he knows Peckinpah's music and in an interview one time George said he was a "mood ring" when it came to music and that he liked U2, Godsmack and Pearl Jam.  So while I think Nick probably does like country, I think he listens to a lot of rock to.  ;b  Heehee!

Thanks to everyone for the reviews.  They help me so much.  As for any ships, it's still up in the air.


	5. Chapter 4

At the corner Ballard and Moss … 

Nick maneuvered his Tahoe into the parking lot across from Luna's Diner.  He hated drive-by shootings.  They tended to be quick cases – which wasn't what bothered him.  It was that they were usually given to those lower on the totem pole for that night.  Which was him obviously.  He was already frustrated with the case and he hadn't even started gathering evidence.  Drive-bys usually went one of two ways.  You either caught the shooter because they were two stupid and threw their gun away nearby or you never caught them because you never found a gun or a witness.  Often people were too frightened to point fingers.

Captain Jim Brass was waiting while uniforms were either questioning the dozen or so witnesses, searching for a gun or keeping the crowds away.  He waited for Nick to reach him then motioned him to follow.  "Three vics.  Two dead, one critical.  Witnesses aren't saying much.  All we've got is one car with two shooters."

"Which doesn't add up to much." Nick finished as he bent down to examine the first body.

"No.  So what'd you do to piss Gris off?" Brass asked.  Nick looked up at him, clearly irritated but chose to say nothing.

Brass glanced around and continued.  "Looks like we've got an easy one.  Unless the gun shows up somewhere in the next few blocks this is all going to be a dead end."

"I know," came Nick's short reply.

At the labs … 

"So what can you tell me about our guy?" Grissom asked of Doc Robbins.

Robbins was looking down at the body when he answered, "well, for starters he wasn't poisoned and he didn't suffer a heart attack."

Catherine sighed.  "Then what killed him?"

"He threw a clot."

"Threw a clot?"

Robbins looked up at Catherine.  "Yes.  You see, when someone has surgery they run a high risk of developing blood clots in their extremities – mainly the legs – because they're laid up in bed.  So the nurses try to get them moving to encourage circulation and prevent clots.  Because if they don't, then when a clot develops and the patient stands it sends it to the brain and they stroke out."

"So he was killed by a blood clot?" Catherine asked wryly.

"Basically.  Probably easing off the leg a little too much since he'd gotten home from the hospital and …" Robbins shrugged.

Grissom sighed.  "Thanks Al."

"Sure thing."

Catherine just gave Grissom an ironic smile and followed him out the door.

Catherine was refilling on coffee when Warrick entered the break room.  "I hear your guy died from a clot?"

"Yeah, fascinating stuff.  'Cept I don't feel like repeating it."  She took a sip of coffee savoring the comfort of it for a moment.

"Where's Nick?"

"Grissom sent him on a crap job."

"Convenience store?"

"Nope.  Drive-by."

Warrick clicked his tongue in pity and shook his head.  "Nick's the lackey tonight I guess."

"Well, you know someone's gotta do it.  It'll be your turn one of these nights."

"His turn for what?" Sara asked as she walked in.

"Nick's on a drive-by."

"I didn't think Grissom was mad at him."

Catherine rolled her eyes.  "He's not.  It's just Nick's turn to play toady."

"I guess Nick's got the boring one tonight," Sara said with pity.

O'Riley brought Jimmy Baker in for questioning and, Warrick hoped, a blood sample.  He was sitting across from their suspect in the interrogation room with O'Riley.  Sara was watching on the other side of the mirror.

"We just wanted you to recount your argument with Brian," O'Riley explained.

"Well, I told him to stop coming on to me.  That I didn't swing that way.  He accused me of being a closet gay.  I told him that was a fuckin' lie.  I'm straight.  Totally.  Anyway, I told him to get his 'Gaydar' fixed and we yelled a couple things back and forth and I left."

"You didn't come to blows?"

"No."

"Well, we found some blood there that wasn't his," Warrick said.  "We were wondering if you'd be willing to give us a blood sample to rule you out as a suspect."

Jimmy frowned.  "I don't really like needles."

"It won't hurt that much.  Or we could just get a warrant," O'Riley insisted.

Jimmy looked back and forth between Warrick and O'Riley.  He sighed.  "Can my lawyer be present?"

The Corner of Ballard and Moss … 

Nick was getting irritated.  There were at least fifteen uniforms tromping around the crime scene.  Ten of who were attempting to help him find bullets and hopefully a discarded gun.

He stood up straight and wiped the back of his wrist across his forehead.  This was getting nowhere.  Silently he lamented getting the annoying case tonight.

*****

AN:  Okay, first of all, the whole thing about blood clots – totally true.  I'm a nursing assistant so I know these things.  Well, except I did stretch it a little (okay – a lot) to fit the story.  The fact that Mark Little had been up and around and was recovering from surgery means it would be highly unlikely that he would have thrown a clot.  But I wanted this case to be confusing at first but then have it clear up easily.  And Warrick and Sara's case will be solved next chapter.

And keep up the reviews, please.  They make me happy. ;)


	6. Chapter 5

At the crime labs … 

Sara plopped down on the break room couch, Warrick trailing in after her.  He made a beeline for the fresh pot of coffee Greg had made.

They had gotten their confession.  Jimmy Baker had killed Brian Collins because he feared his future as a professional wrestler was in jeopardy if rumors got around that he was gay.  Sara felt utterly disgusted at how little progress humankind had made.

Catherine made her way in and joined Warrick at the coffee maker.  "So, you got your guy huh?"

"Yeah," Warrick sighed.  "O'Riley's booking him as we speak."

"God," Sara sighed.  "How pathetic is our night?  We close both cases with less than two hours to spare in our shift.  And Nick's working a simple case of a drive-by, which will probably be wrapped up by the end of the shift one way or another."

"You're exaggerating Sara," Grissom chided light-heartedly as he walked into the room.  "It will probably carry Nick through the next shift."

The corner of Ballard and Moss … 

Nick approached Brass hoping the man would be willing to call it a night.  He'd already collected samples to take to the lab and he'd searched with Brass' officers for two hours without finding a trace of the murder weapon.  There was less than a barely an hour left to the shift and Nick figured he could at least take the samples into the lab and call it a night.  Then he'd get a fresh start on them his next shift.

"Hey Nicky," Brass said in his usual understated tone.  "No gun."  It wasn't a question.

Nick nodded in agreement.  "No gun."

"You wanna split, don't you?"

The younger man gave a tired grin.  "Yeah."

"Just give me a second to talk to the boys and get their interview notes for you, then you can take off."

Nick opened his mouth to say thanks when he heard the sound of tires squealing as two cars barreled around the corner.  He and Brass, along with the other officers turned toward the sound.  

Brass found his mind kicking into high gear as he instinctively took mental notes on the vehicles while he reached for his gun.  He knew something was not right.

At the crime labs … 

Greg was in the AV lab with Archie Johnson as they tried to escape the boredom of a slow shift.  They were sharing funny stories while listening to the police scanner, wondering if there'd be another case before shift was over.

A frantic voice shouting over the scanner caught their attention.

"Shots fired!  We have shots fired at the northwest corner of Ballard Street and Moss Avenue!"

Greg and Archie barreled out of the lab towards the break room.

_The corner of Ballard and Moss …_

Nick and Brass ducked behind the nearest black and white as bullets started flying.  Brass raised his gun and fired off a round at the shooters.  Nick managed to squash the natural urge to panic and checked his weapon.  He absently noted the blood dripping off Brass' gun.

Then three more cars raced down the street that ran parallel on the other side, where Nick and Brass were exposed to them. 

Brass turned and joined Nick in firing at the new comers, ignoring to burning in his right shoulder and the blood running down his arm.  He was too focused on the shooters and his injury could wait.

Nick was focused on their attackers when he felt an agonizing pain rip through his gut and he glanced down and saw blood.  He knew he was shot.  The tears of fear and anger that he'd been blinking away began to blur his vision as he tried to continue firing back.  Or maybe I'm blacking out, he thought vaguely.  His gun slid out of his fingers when a bullet hit him in the lower right arm.

Brass grunted next to him as another bullet hit his left leg, but kept firing.

Then as quickly as it started, it stopped.  The five cars left the scene at high speed, as sirens that had gone unnoticed grew closer.  Three cruisers skidded to a stop while four more flew by in pursuit of the shooters.  Brass let his wounded arm drop wearily to his side as he surveyed the damage.  He swallowed as he turned toward Nick.

Nick was clutching at his stomach with the lost look of a child.

"Aw, shit Nicky," Brass hissed.  "Hey!" he shouted when he saw Lockwood exit another cruiser that arrived, radioing for assistance.  "Get the paramedics!"

At the crime labs … 

The other four CSIs looked up in surprise when Greg and Archie flew into the break room.  Greg slid to a stop, panting for breath unable to speak, while Archie slammed his hand down on the counter next to the scanner and turned it on.

"We have multiple officers down!  I repeat, multiple officers down.  We need paramedics now!" Lockwood voice came over the scanner, filled with urgency.  "We have officers down at the northwest corner of Ballard Street and Moss Avenue!"

Warrick came to his feet and Catherine clamped a hand over her mouth in shock.

"Oh, God!  That's where Nick is!" Sara cried out.

"Get the goddamned paramedics in here now!" Brass' pained voice sounded over the scanner.

Grissom clenched his fists.  If anything happened to Nick …

O'Riley rushed into the room then.  "I heard what happened.  Let's roll!"

*****

Author's notes:  Hello!!!!!  I'm back!  Dude, I've been gone the last two weeks.  First I was a counselor at my church's Youth Camp.  Then I was doing respite care at a conference in Idaho.  I just got back Sunday.  So the last two days I've been recovering.  

As for the story, yes, I did wrap up the other two cases too easily, but I wanted Nick's case to be the focus of the story.  I hope I didn't disappoint anyone.  As you can see, this simple, straightforward drive-by shooting just became something a whole helluva a lot bigger.  Heehee!

And I wanted to thank Mairi-Clare for pointing out my mistake with the whole blood clot issue.  I've thought about going back and correcting that, but I just haven't got the energy to do so right now.

Thanks everyone for your continued support.  I enjoy the feedback!


	7. Chapter 6

The corner of Ballard and Moss … 

Nick was gasping for breath, panic-stricken.  He looked at Brass and saw the older man's worry that he tried to hide. 

"Hey, Stokes!" Brass snapped.  "Focus on me.  Stay with me.  The medics are on their way."

"You're bleeding."  Nick's voice was barely a whisper as he looked at Brass' right shoulder.  

Brass had stripped his jacket off and was using it to apply pressure to the wound in Nick's stomach.  "Yeah, I know.  It's not that bad though."  He turned and shouted over his shoulder, "Christ!  Where's the damn ambulance?"

Lockwood, bent over the body of a dead officer, looked up.  "They're rolling."

"In case you haven't noticed, we need them yesterday!"

Lockwood stood and ran to help Brass and Nick.  "Fuck!"  He saw the captain, shot at least twice from what he could see, applying pressure to a nasty gut shot Nick had received.  He hastily stripped off his jacket to replace Brass', which was now soaked with Nick's blood.  "Here," he said urging Brass to move aside.  Lockwood looked for a uniform that wasn't too busy.  "Myles, get your ass over here with a kit!  Jergins call and see what the ETA is on an ambulance!"

Officer Myles hurried over with a first aide kit.  Brass jerked it from his hands with his good arm and opened it, tearing through it to find some gauze to tend to his and Nick's wounds while they waited for medical help.  "What's the status?" he growled out.

"Kendrick, Morris and three others are down.  Perkins just radioed that the body of one of the shooters was dumped out of one of the cars involved.  They're still chasing the shooters."

"How bad?"  He ripped open the sleeve of his shirt and hissed in pain, pressing a gauze pad to the wound.

Myles swallowed and licked his lips nervously.  "Kendrick's dead and I don't think anything can be done for Morris."

Brass swore under his breath then nodded toward his injured leg.  "Help me with that, will ya?"

Myles nodded and squatted down to tend to the leg wound.

Lockwood was still applying pressure to Nick's wound when they could hear sirens drawing closer.  "Okay Nick.  I need you to stay alert.  The paramedics are here."  He watched the first ambulance pull in and three paramedics piled out to unload their equipment.  "Hey, over here!" he shouted.  "This guy's serious."

The medics rushed over with their equipment and took over Nick's care.  One cut his shirt open to treat the wound while a second applied an oxygen mask.  The third turned to Brass and tried to assist him.  The captain kept brushing him away to watch what was happening with Nick.

"Sir, I need to treat your injuries.  My partners are taking excellent care of him."

"Yeah, excellent," Brass wheezed.  "Then how come he's not on the way to the hospital yet?"

"He needs to be stabilized."

Deep down, Brass knew all this.  He knew the rules, the drill.  But blood loss and the beginnings of shock were robbing him of all his knowledge as a cop.

Nick was floating in a haze of pain and red.  He did not like the feeling at all.  It didn't even hurt this bad when Nigel had pushed him out the window.  His gut was burning and he could dimly make out voices and figures.

He had known Brass was with him.  The man had ordered him to stay focused.  Then he had thought he heard Lockwood's voice.  Now he was hearing the voices of strangers as they tended to him.

There was that small intellectual part of him, the trained CSI and officer, that knew he was being treated for a critical gunshot wound.  That part of him was scrabbling to maintain its purchase amongst the hurting, burning torment he was experiencing.  He was desperately trying to grasp that training, that ability to keep control.

But the little boy in him wanted to curl into a ball and hide till it all went away.  That little boy in him, that despite all the ugly things that happened to him, still survived deep inside of Nick.  Tears came easy to the little boy, so therefore they tended to come easy to the man.  And tears were still welling up in Nick's eyes from the pain and fear.

And both the boy and the man in Nick wondered if the others knew what had transpired.

Two of the crime lab's Tahoes sped down the Vegas streets.  Information coming over the scanners wasn't enough to either dispel or confirm the occupants' worst fears.  The only information they had gleaned was four officers and one suspect dead and three officers wounded.  One of those critically.

Catherine was frightened, worried and angry.  She felt so helpless not knowing what had happened to Nick and she hated that feeling.  Questions were flying through her head rapid fire.  Did Brass manage to get the two of them behind cover in time?  Did Nicky make it unscathed?  Was he one of the injured?  She didn't want to consider the other possibility.

The mother in her wished she could have shielded Nick from this, just like she always did for her daughter.  With all the ugly things in the world, Catherine kept Lindsey as safe and as sheltered as she could.  But no one had ever successfully shielded Nick from all the horrors of humanity.  He learned about them first hand when he was nine.

When he had told her what the babysitter had done to him she had wanted to soothe his pain like his mother should have all those years ago.  She wanted to take Nick in her arms and tell him it wasn't his fault.  She wanted to hunt the bitch down and beat the shit out of her for doing something so cruel and inhuman to an innocent child.  She wanted to take Nick home, give him some hot chocolate and tuck him into bed safe and sound for the night.  But he was a grown man now, and would have looked at her like she was insane.

A noise escaped her throat that was part laugh and part sob.

Brass watched as they finally loaded Nick onto a stretcher, and then rolled him toward the ambulance.  The pain meds they had injected him with were making his thinking fuzzy.  Even more so then the pain had.  Brass wondered how much time had actually passed since the shooting had begun.  To him, it felt like hours ago.

Someone was saying something to him.  His brows knit together and he turned toward the paramedics who were trying to get him onto the stretcher.  He glanced around the parking lot at the carnage.  He saw David Phillips, the assistant corner bent over someone's body.  Brass knew he wouldn't move the body until Grissom or someone else from the crew got there.

But not Nicky.  No, Nick wouldn't be processing this scene.

To Warrick it seemed like an eternity before they arrived at the scene.  He wanted to find Nick and to be reassured he was safe.  He was positive that Nick would have called someone's cell after it all went down, but perhaps he was distracted.  Maybe he was already collecting evidence.  Scanning the sea of officers and paramedics his heart began to sink as he noted the absence of his friend.

Sara was clutching his arm in a vise like grip.  She too hadn't seen any sign of Nick.  Fear wormed its way through her entire being at the implications.

She then saw a familiar face amongst the other paramedics.  As much as she didn't want to speak to him, she thought he might know where Nick was.  Sara led the way as Warrick, Catherine and Grissom– O'Riley having jogged off to get a report from some of the uniforms – followed her to where Hank was working on a fallen officer.

As they drew nearer they could see he was frantically working to save the man's life as the officer's blood spurted from a severed artery.  Hank did what he could to clamp the artery.  Glancing up, eyes weary, he saw Sara standing there with the others, wide-eyed with fear and worry.  He motioned with his head for his partner to take over.  When he was relieved he walked hurriedly to Sara.

"Sara, you look like you've seen a ghost," he said softly.

She gave herself a mental shake, dispelling the image of Nick in place of the officer Hank had been treating.  "Have you seen Nick?  He was here processing the first shooting when this all went down."

Hank looked puzzled for a moment.  "Stokes?  I haven't seen him."  He realized what Sara was afraid of and tried to do what he could to reassure her.  "He could be helping the other paramedics with triage."

Sara nodded, trying to believe those words.  She felt someone gently take her elbow.  She looked over at Grissom.

"I see Lockwood over there," he explained as he moved her toward the detective, who was hovering over the occupant of a stretcher talking with them.

Brass ripped the oxygen mask off his face.  "Did they say how Nicky was?" he asked Lockwood as the paramedics prepared to load him.  The ambulance carrying Nick had already left, right as the CSIs were pulling in.

Lockwood shook his head in the negative.

"Lockwood," Grissom said as he approached with the others.  He looked shocked when he realized the man on the stretcher was Brass.  As he recovered from the shock he asked, "where's Nick?"

Both officers looked sad and defeated.  "Gil," Brass began.  "He was hit."

Catherine paled.  "Oh no."

*****

AN:  Sorry it's taken so long to update, but thanks for all the wonderful reviews.  I'm glad everyone seems to be enjoying the story.  Even though I'm a big meanie for having Nicky get shot.  But I love him so much I just gotta do it.  (How sick is that?!)


	8. Chapter 7

_At Desert Palms hospital …_

He was barely aware when the paramedics burst through the doors of the emergency department.  Nick only wanted to escape the pain and his mind was trying to shut everything out.  So he decided he wanted to fade away, into oblivion.  But even unconsciousness wouldn't come.

_The corner of Ballard and Moss …_

"How bad is it Jim?" Grissom asked in a hushed tone.  "Is he …" his voice faltered and trailed off.

"No, he's not dead," Brass answered, voice faint.  "But it's bad."

"I'm sorry sir," one of the paramedics interrupted.  "We need to take him.  He'll be at the Desert Palms hospital."

"Gris," Lockwood began as they watched Brass be loaded into the waiting ambulance.  "Nick was shot in the abdomen and he lost a lot of blood."

"Did they get the shooters?" Warrick questioned angrily.

"They stopped two of the cars and are still in pursuit of the others.  They all split up after a few blocks.  One shooter was dumped, dead.  You guys can go be with Nick," Lockwood insisted softly.  "The day crew's been called in to process this."

"We'll take it until they show," Grissom insisted firmly.  "Then we'll pass it off."

Lockwood nodded, knowing better than to argue.  He headed off to take care of things.

Grissom looked to the other three.  "We'll do what we can, make sure it's taken care of right.  We want an airtight case against Nick's shooters."  He wanted to focus on the crime and the scene, and not the fact that someone they cared about was close to death.

_Desert Palms hospital …_

The doctors wheeled Nick into the operating room.  They'd anesthetized him soon after he came into the ER, he had never lost consciousness.  They had to work quickly to extract the bullet and stop the bleeding.  He'd already lost an alarming amount of blood and they feared he wouldn't survive on the OR table.  But there was no choice but to go forward the procedure.

The corner of Ballard and Moss … 

Catherine looked up from the bullet casing she was bagging – she didn't want to think about how many there were – when the day shift arrived.  Normally the fact that they were having to hand over a case to Conrad Ecklie and his crew would aggravate her, but she wanted to get out of there and see Nick.  She wanted to know he was still breathing.

Grissom and the others gathered around the day shift and began to pass off the evidence they'd collected.  In quiet tones Grissom relayed his notes to Ecklie.

As the team turned to leave Ecklie's voice caused Grissom to pause.  "I'll keep you updated," he volunteered.  Grissom gave the man a weary nod and climbed into his Tahoe.

Desert Palms hospital … 

Brass was seated in a wheelchair in the waiting room with Greg when they arrived.  Brass couldn't even muster his usual wry smile when he spotted them.  And Greg was eerily quiet. The captain had never stopped to think about how close they had all become as a team – and as family.

"Any word?" Warrick's voice broke on the words.

Greg shook his head sadly and opened his mouth to speak.  He had to clear his throat twice before forming the words.  "Not yet.  We've been here for over an hour."

Warrick angrily slugged the wall.  "I hate fuckin' waiting!"

Catherine dropped wearily into a chair.  "So do I.  But beating up on the wall isn't going to help."

"I just want to know how he is.  I want to find the bastards that shot him."

"We will," Grissom assured firmly.

"God, I wish I could be as sure as you!" Warrick snapped.

Brass wheeled himself over to Warrick.  "If you don't believe Gil, then believe me," his voice carried the usual quiet conviction.  "We'll get those goddamn punks.  Even if I have to hunt them down myself."

Before anyone could respond a nurse came up to the group.  "Captain Brass, I'm afraid you need to go back to your room.  You need some rest."

"In case you hadn't noticed, I'm waiting on news abou. . ."

The nurse cut him off.  "I realize that, but you've been shot yourself.  You need your meds and sleep."  She gave him a sympathetic look.  "Even if it's only an hour or two at this point.  And I promise to come get you when there's news." 

She walked over to him and wheeled him out of the room.

Nick had no clue where he was.  He glanced around and could see desert stretching endlessly before and behind him.  It wasn't clear to him why he was there.  He was sure he was supposed to be on a case.  That much he knew.  But he didn't recall it being in the middle of the desert.

"What are you doing, Nicky?"

Nick knew that voice.  Puzzlement was written on his face when he turned to face Kristy Hopkins.

"You know, I'm not really sure."   It occurred to him that it was odd to see her.  "What are you doing here?"

She smiled.  "It's your subconscious, not mine.  And really, the desert?  Haven't you seen enough of that in your life?  Why not the Bahamas, or Jamaica?"

He had no clue what she was talking about, so he shrugged.  "It's familiar I guess."

Kristy nodded as if she understood.  He was glad, because he didn't.

"How have you been Nick?" she asked, voice soft and filled with affection. 

"Good.  I've been good.  And you?"

"Dead."

"Right."  He looked down and kicked at the sand.  "Am I dead too?"

"Do you remember what happened?"

Nick looked up at her and shook his head.

"You were shot."  Her eyes were filled with sympathy.

He nodded as though he comprehended it all.  But he didn't.  Nothing about this whole weird scenario made sense to him.

Silence stretched on while Nick studied the landscape, trying to wrap his mind around what was happening.  "So," he said finally.  "_Am_ I dead?"

"No.  You're on the operating table as we speak."

"But I may not survive."

Kristy shrugged.  "I'm not a doctor.  But knowing you, you'll fight your way through."  She delivered a stunning, warm smile as she said it.

Nick couldn't help but return the smile.  "All this is really bizarre, you know."

"I know."

Warrick was stretched out on a couch in the solarium as they waited out the third hour of Nick's surgery.  He was trying to sleep, but couldn't.  All he could think about was finding the bastards that shot Nick and shoot them himself with his police issue firearm.

Surreptitiously he glanced about the room checking for the others.  Brass was still in his room resting.  Greg and Catherine had gone down to the cafeteria to grab some food.  Grissom was lightly snoring slouched over in a chair nearby.  And Sara was standing at the window staring out at nothing.

Warrick quickly and quietly rose to his feet and left the room.

He made his way across the hospital lobby and out the door.

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AN:  Sorry guys.  I know it's been awhile since the last chapter.  I've just switched to night shift and I'm getting used to the schedule.  Plus I've been having mild writer's block.   *muttering*  Damn stupid plot bunny runs off and leaves me.  Dumb bastard.  *grumble*

Any way, hopefully I'll get back into the swing of things. 

And thanks to everyone for all the great feedback!


	9. Chapter 8

At the lab … 

Warrick stormed into the CSI building, determined to take action.  He couldn't sit back and wait on word that Nick would be okay.  He had to do something or go insane.

Ecklie sighed when Warrick slammed into his office.  He had been expecting this sooner or later.  "What do you want Brown?"

"What evidence to you got on the bastards?"

The day shift supervisor took a sip of his coffee, and then set his mug down.  "You know I can't tell you.  We can't risk the evidence becoming contaminated."

"Damn it!  We're talking about cop killers!  Nicky is lying in the hospital because of these punks!"

"All the more reason to make sure the case is air-tight."

Warrick open his mouth to say more, but Ecklie held up a hand to stop him.  "Get out of here Brown.  You can't work this case.  It's personal for you."

"Fuck yeah it's personal!  Nick is my best friend!"

"I promised Grissom I keep him in the loop.  Now go do both of us a favor and leave the building.  Don't get in my way, or any of my people.  If you really want these sons of bitches to pay let _us_ catch them.  You'd just get everything thrown out of court."

Ecklie flinched when Warrick stormed back out, causing his mug to tip over when the door banged behind him.

Warrick was moving down the hall like a demon ready for the kill when he spotted O'Riley and a uniform bringing in a Hispanic teen.  The boy was dressed like a gang member.  In a few long strides he caught them.

"Is he one of them?" he shouted grabbing the kid by the collar.  "Is he one of the fuckin' shitheads from the shooting?"

"Hey man!  I know my rights!" the kid insisted.  "Let me go!"

"Brown, let him go!" O'Riley warned.  "We're handling this!"

"Are you on crack, dude!" the kid yelled when Warrick slammed him up against the wall.  "I don't gotta take this!  This is police brutality!"

"If my friend dies because of you and your punk ass friends, you're gonna have a helluva lot more than police brutality," Warrick growled.  "So if you're smart you're gonna roll over on your friends and plead guilty."

"Fuck you!"

Warrick pulled the boy back them slammed him back against the wall.  "Don't fuck with me!  I am not in the mood!"

O'Riley pried Warrick's hand away from the kid, allowing two officers to take him away.

"You need to watch it!  Shit like that can blow the whole case!" O'Riley insisted, voice sharp.  "I know you're worried about Nicky, and I am too.  But if we want to get the assholes we're gonna do it all by the book.  Even the paperwork is gonna have all the i's dotted and the t's crossed.  We're not gonna let them walk on a damn technicality."

Warrick sighed, anger simmering just under the surface.

"Now," O'Riley continued.  "Why don't you head on back to the hospital and see how things are going with Nick."

Warrick nodded tiredly.

Desert Palms Hospital … 

Brass looked weary as he rolled his wheelchair into the Solarium where the rest of the CSIs where waiting.

"Breyerson didn't make it," he said softly.  "I just ran into his partner."

"Oh, man," Greg moaned.  "I played pool with him just three nights ago."

"The goddamn punks are lucky I'm in not condition to go after them right now," Brass said with deadly calm.  "They went after me and my boys."

"Yes," Grissom snapped.  "And Nicky was caught in the crossfire when they went after your _boys_."

Anger flared in Brass' eyes as he rolled straight up to Grissom.  "Nicky is one of my boys, and don't forget that.  I was in your shoes once and you don't just walk away from that.  You understand me?"

Grissom looked exhausted suddenly.  He nodded.

Nick and Kristy were walking along an endless stretch of highway.  He was still confused as to what he was doing there.  A part of him understood it was some strange dream his subconscious created, but it was unsettling. 

Nick hadn't thought about Kristy in some time.

Yes there was the occasional nightmare about her death.  For a long time he blamed himself for her death.  If only he had stay over.  But he hadn't, so he was forced to face it.

Then there was the occasional dream she starred in.  He could feel himself blush just thinking about that.

"I always knew you had a dirty mind," his companion teased suddenly.

"Huh?"  He looked at her in shock, and then his features soften.  "Right.  Subconscious.  So you know what's goin' on in my head."

"Kinda weird, huh?"

Nick chuckled.  "Everything about this is weird."

"Yeah."  Kristy leaned toward him as if she were going to tell him a secret.  "You see dead people," she whispered with a teasing smile.

He couldn't help but laugh at that.  "Man, I do have some lame jokes laying around in there, don't I?"

"They would put Greg to shame."

Nick sobered, thinking of his friends.  "They're probably worried about me."

"I know they are."

He stopped walking and she was forced to turn and face him.  "What do you want, Nicky?"

"I don't know.  I guess I want to be awake and doing fine.  That everything that happened is a dream and when I wake up I'm gonna go to work and tease Greg, and make bets with Warrick.  Sara's gonna be giving me a hard time about that witness last week who grabbed my ass.  Cath's gonna be mothering me and Grissom is gonna tell me again about how bugs establish time of death."  He threw his hands up in the air.  "This is bullshit!  I'm on an operating table apparently fighting for my life, but my mind is playing games with me while I'm unconscious!  I am one seriously fucked up individual!"

"I'm not going to argue with you on this Nicky," Kristy said softly. 

He stood and stared at her, angry, confused and hurting.  He didn't want to be here, torturing himself with her image.

"Come on, there's more to see."  She took his hand and started to pull him down the road once more.

************************************************************************************************************

AN:  Here it is!  Another installment of this drama!  Yay me!

Anyway, I guess it's kinda short, but at least it's something.  And I gotta keep my readers happy!  You all have been so wonderful and generous with your reviews!  So this is my thank you.  I'm starting to slowly get back into the groove.  But I'm making no promises.


	10. Chapter 9

Nick could swear they had walked for miles.  And he had no idea where he was going. 

But Kristy was leading the way and the pair had fallen into and oddly comfortable silence.

"It's not far now," she said at length.  Nick scanned the horizon, but couldn't immediately make anything out.

After they'd walked for another twenty minutes he was sure he could make out someone on the road ahead of them.

There was a young teenaged boy standing before them.  The youth's light brown hair was plastered to his head with sweat.  Nick recognized him – a face he could never forget.

"Hey," the boy greeted with a nod.  "You know, it's fuckin' hot out here."

Nick nodded absently.  He couldn't understand why Dylan Buckley was standing before him.  They had never even met before Dylan's death.

"Doesn't matter, Nicky," Kristy insisted.

He shot her a glare.  "I know this is all my dream, but I wish you'd quit it with the mind reading."

"Sorry."  She smiled, not looking apologetic at all.

"So how's it goin' man?" Dylan asked as though this was a normal, everyday conversation for him and Nick.

"Um, okay?  Well except the whole getting shot thing."

Dylan looked sympathetic.  "Yeah, that would suck."

"Sure."  Nick turned to look at Kristy sharply.  "What the hell is this?"

"Dylan's death affected you deeply, Nick.  It brought out bad memories for you.  You felt like you let him down, even though you had nothing to do with his death."

Nick turned to look at Dylan, unable to deny what Kristy said.  "So."  He cleared his throat.  "Are you along for this ride?"

Dylan shrugged.  "Don't look at me.  It's your dream."

Throwing his hands in the air, Nick said, "why not?  Like this could get any weirder."

Kristy and Dylan just smiled at each other.

Sara was standing outside the hospital entrance when Warrick came back.  He paused his approach when he saw her, but decided not to put the explosion off.

"Where have you been?" she snapped.  She was livid.

"I was …"

"I tell you where you've been," Sara cut him off.  "You went to the lab!  You attacked a suspect!  What the hell are you thinking Warrick?  You could've compromised the case!"

"Well, I'm sorry!" he shouted.  "But you know, I just can't stand by while these fuckin' shit-heads get off on playing target practice with cops!  Everyone else is sitting around with their heads up their asses!  Excuse me for wanting to do something!"

She scoffed angrily.  "You don't think I want to be down there doing something?  Nick is as much my friend as yours, but at least I still have functioning brain cells to realize that storming down there and threatening to kill a suspect isn't going to help him!  Don't you think I'd love to use these guys for a couple of rounds of target practice?  Don't you think I would love to think of the most painful torture and punish them?  But we can't do this.  We need to lock them away and let them rot."

Warrick reached out and brushed away a tear she hadn't realized had fallen from her eyes.  "I'm sorry Sara," he said softly.  "I wasn't thinking of how anyone else feels.  But I was feeling so useless waiting for word on Nick."

Sara sighed.  "I know.  I feel that way too, but I just don't have the energy to leave this hospital until I know Nick will be okay."

He drew her into a hug.  "He'll be okay.  He's Nick."

She gave a tearful chuckle.  "Yeah, he is."

Brass watched as Sara dragged Warrick into the solarium.  Brass would never admit it, but when they realized Warrick had left the hospital he had been worried the CSI would do something foolish and they'd end up with another one of them to worry about.

Brass rolled up to the pair and pinned Warrick with a nasty glare.  "You pull a stupid stunt like that again and I'll make sure you're suspended for a year!" he growled out.  "I don't want Nick to come out of surgery and find out you did something that put you in the hospital too!"

Warrick returned the glare with one of his own and looked as if he were going to say something, then abruptly deflated.  He understood where Brass was coming from.  "I'm sorry," he sighed.  "I wasn't thinking."

"Damn straight you weren't."  Brass suddenly looked tired.  "Don't disappear again."

Into their fifth hour of vigil, a doctor finally appeared in the solarium.  Everyone focused on him immediately.

"I'm Doctor Banks.  You're friend made it through surgery, but its still touch and go.  He's lucky that the bullet to the abdomen missed his vital organs, but it still did significant damage.  The least of our worries was the bullet that fractured both his right radius and ulna.  Mr. Stokes is currently in recovery, but as soon as he's been moved you'll be allowed to visit him briefly.  We're keeping him medicated, so he'll still be unconscious when you see him."

"How long will you keep him sedated like that?" Katherine asked worriedly.  "Is that good for him?"

"He was still conscious when he arrived, despite the obvious blood loss and pain.  His body can't cope with his injuries unless we it's resting.  This is what's currently best for him.  Mr. Stokes would be in considerable pain, even in his medicated state, were he to be awake.  His injuries are so severe that I don't believe pain killers would offer long periods of relief."

Grissom nodded in understanding.

Nick didn't know what to say as he walked down the road, Kristy on one side and Dylan on the other.  This was seriously fucked up.  He was wondering when Jacob Marley was going to show up and tell him the ghosts of Christmas were coming to show him the error of his ways.  

Oh yeah, wrong fucking story.

Kristy and Dylan looked at him, clearly amused and he silently cursed them – using words that would make even Warrick blush.

"No need to get nasty," Kristy teased.  "This is you're dream."

"Yeah, dude," Dylan agreed.  "If you wanted, I'm sure you could make some playboy bunnies appear."

"I would if I could.  But it seems I can't."

"Oh, yeah.  The whole inner journey thing."  
  


"I wouldn't know.  You guys seem to be the ones with all the answers here.  I'm just along for the ride."

"Well, since you're along for the ride, try to enjoy it," Kristy suggested.  "Have fun with it."

"Have fun with it?"  He stared at her like she was on crack.  "Have fun with being shot and maybe dying?  Yeah, lets throw a fuckin' party."

Kristy stopped abruptly and whirled around on him.  "Don't blame this on me!  You're the one really guiding this thing.  I'm just some manifestation of one of the fucked up things in your life.  Dylan's another.  It seems to me that you're the one calling the shots.  And it's all connected to you pitying yourself.  Yes, you got shot.  Yes, you were accused of my murder.  Yes, you felt a connection to Dylan.  Yes, you've had a lot of problems.  And they're all something _you_ have to work on.  Not some imaginary ghosts born out of your guilt."

With that Kristy and Dylan both disappeared.

"Kristy?  Dylan?"  Nick turned a circle.  There was no sign of them anywhere.  "Kristy!"

He was alone.

And he realized, dream or no, he didn't like it.

*********************************************************************************************************

AN:  Sorry, another short chapter.  But I hope you guys like it anyway.  I appreciate all the great reviews I'm getting.

And for all the information about Nick's surgery – all made up.  I have never worked in that field, and doubtfully ever will.  But that's why it's called fiction, right?  I just used what I've heard on TV. ;)


	11. Chapter 10

Catherine thought Nick looked far too pale and fragile lying in the hospital bed when they entered his room.  He was connected to IVs and monitors.  Stillness was unnatural for him, she realized painfully.  Nick was always in motion, it seemed.  Even when he was quiet and contemplative it seemed as though he were active.

She watched as Sara moved to one side with Warrick and Greg and reached to take his hand.  Catherine found herself reaching out for his other.

Tears glittered in her eyes as she watched the reassuring rise and fall of his chest.  "Hey Nicky."  She was sure the others could hear the catch in her voice, but at the moment she could care less.  "I called your mom and dad.  They plan on being on the next plane out.  I know what you're thinking, you don't want to worry them but that's what parents do, you know.  We worry about our kids."

Catherine took a deep shuddering breath.  "I'm worried about you Nicky.  I know you're a tough guy and you'll pull through, but I'm worried about how you'll feel after all the excitement dies down.  You take everything to heart and feel responsible.  And you're not.  Some people out there are stupid, selfish, evil assholes and you can't take responsibility for that."

She glanced at Grissom, who had come to stand beside her.  He looked lost, like he didn't know what to do.  Grissom was so used to being in control of things and having the answers.  But he wasn't in control of what had happened to Nick.  And he was at a loss at how to deal.

Nick sat on a boulder and tried to think.  He didn't like the quiet stillness of his trek without Kristy.  It made everything even more eerily surreal.

"Okay Kristy!" he shouted.  "You win!  I'm sorry I was an asshole.  I don't think I want to try this alone."

"That's all it takes," she said from behind him.

Nick turned and offered her a wan smile as she sat down beside him.  "I wish everything were that easy."

"Where's all the fun in that," Kristy teased, bumping his shoulder with his own.

He shrugged.  "Not everything's about fun."

"I seem to remember things otherwise with you."

At seeing her wicked grin, Nick felt a blush rise to his cheeks.  "You know what I mean."

Kristy's grin softened.  "Hey, I'm just trying to make things easier on you."

"Thanks, I appreciate it."

"Well, time to get going," she announced, standing and brushing the dust of the back of her thighs.  "There's still a lot left for you to see."  She held out her hand to help him up.

He couldn't help but smile at her as he took her hand and rose to his feet.  "Lead the way."

Greg was currently the only one in Nick's room, seated at his bedside, when Archie poked his head in.  "Where's everyone at?" the Asian man asked, glancing around the room.

"Brass' nurse came and drug him back to his room for some rest.  Catherine had to go pick Lindsey up from school.  Warrick went to get some real food from Mickey D's.  Sara went home to grab a quick shower and Grissom's getting coffee."

Archie nodded.  "I would have been here sooner, but with you here they needed an extra hand in the lab."

"How'd that go?"

"Now I know why AV's my thing."  Greg chuckled at that.  Then he grew serious once more.

"How's Nick?"

The lab tech sighed.  "No change."

Archie pulled up a chair alongside Greg.  "Man, this sucks.  First that whole stalker thing, now this."

"Yeah."

"I don't think I ever seen him hold still for this long."

"I know.  You know what amazes me about Nick?  Nothing brings him down.  I mean I know things get to him.  I've seen how he gets, but he doesn't let all the shit stop him.  It's like he's determined not to let it all win."

"I know."

"Hey Archie," Warrick greeted as he entered, carrying three bags of McDonald's food.  "You hungry man?  I got enough for everyone."

"Sure, thanks."

"How's the investigation going?" Warrick asked taking a seat nearby.

Archie looked nervous at Warrick's question, having witnessed part of the episode with the suspect back at the labs.

Warrick interpreted the look correctly.  "I got a little out of control earlier today.  I'm not going to go down there and mess things up now."

"They've brought in two more suspects.  It's hard to get anything solid though," he sighed.  "The shooters all dumped their guns, except the dead one.  The only thing they've got to go on is who own the vehicles involved.  Between Brass, Woodruff and Nichols getting the license plate numbers that's all there is so far."

"Fuck," Warrick sighed and leaned back in his seat.

"I wonder how the investigation's going," Nick said as they walked along at a leisurely pace.  He felt more at peace about his whole ordeal after Kristy reappeared.  Something about her presence was reassuring. 

"Ever the crime fighter," she laughed.

"Hey," he said with a grin.  "You know me."

She took his hand and grew serious.  "You know a lot of this isn't going to be easy, right?"

He frowned and stopped.  "I was afraid of that."

Placing the palm of her hand against his cheek she offered him an encouraging smile.  "I'll be with you every step of the way.  You don't have to do it along."

He turned his head and lightly kissed her palm.  "Thanks."

Sara grimaced with disgust when she entered Nick's hospital room to be greeted by the smell of Big Macs.  Warrick, Greg and Archie were munching away at their hamburgers while Grissom sat on the other side of Nick's bed sedately drinking his coffee.

"God guys.  Couldn't you have eaten in the solarium or something?  The smell is nauseating."

Archie was the only one with the grace to look guilty.  "Sorry Sara.  We didn't realize you'd be back so soon."

With a sigh she sat down in a chair by the window.  "It's okay.  I was going to try and get some sleep, but I couldn't.  So I came back."

Warrick nodded in understanding.  He knew the only way he would truly be able to sleep was for Nick to be awake and fine.  Rest wouldn't come until he knew Nick was okay.

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AN:  Sorry it's been so long between updates.  Real life unfortunately asserts itself.  It sucks!  Anyway here's another chapter, but it's short.  Wish I could have made it longer.  I'll aim to make the next one better.


	12. Chapter 11

Nick wondered what was next in the grand tour of his psyche.  Although he was a little more relaxed now that he was back in Kristy's presence.  Something about her was soothing for his overwhelmed mind.

"How much longer do you think I'll be here?" he asked her softly.

She shrugged and gave him a sad smile.  "Why?  Tired of my company already?"

"No.  I think I'm gonna miss you when I wake up."

Kristy's eyes teared up.  "You're so sweet Nicky."

"I get that a lot," he said with a teasing smile.

She turned back to the horizon ahead.  "Oh, here we are," she said when she spotted the figure in the distance.

"Who now?"

Kristy gently grabbed his arm.  "Nick, whatever happens, stay calm.  Okay?  I'm here every step of the way.  I'll help you in any way I can."

Nick studied her face.  She looked genuinely worried.

"Who is it Kristy?"

"Hi Nick," a voice greeted as the figure approached.  Nick felt his blood run cold.

"I swear that man is a handful," Brass heard his nurse complain to another as he neared the nurses' station on the way to Nick's room.  "He won't stay in his room for more than twenty minutes.  How is he supposed to recover if he doesn't take his meds and actually get some rest?"

"He's just worried about that friend of his," the other nurse assured.

"I understand that.  But he should understand that he's just making himself weak.  And what good would it do his friend then?"

Brass proceeded to roll past the station, unnoticed, and thought about the truth of that statement.  But at the moment he didn't really care.  He could rest once Nick was out of the woods.

When he entered Nick's room he found Catherine and Grissom keeping vigil.

"How is he?"

Grissom sighed and wiped a hand over his tired eyes.  "He has a low grade fever from his wounds, so they want to keep him in the coma for awhile longer."

"He's seems kinda restless," Catherine supplied softly.  "Like he's dreaming."

"How are you doing, Jim?"

Brass looked at Grissom.  "Wonderful invention, pain killers.  Right now everything is just a dull ache.  So, where's the rest of the party?"

"Sara went with Warrick to get some dinner," Catherine explained.  "I think she wanted to make sure he got something besides McDonald's.  Archie was here for a few hours, then he and Greg headed back to the lab to see if they could help."

"After Nick wakes up and is released," Brass said, "I think we're all entitled to a long vacation.

"I second that," Catherine saluted with her cup of coffee.

Greg and Archie poured over blood samples, fiber samples and soil samples attempting to connect the three suspects in custody to the shooting.

Greg was frustrated.  He was ready to borrow a page from Warrick's book and go beat them until they confessed.  But he wasn't intimidating like Warrick.

Maybe he could get Archie to go down too, and do his Karate-Kid-Kung-Fu thing.  Whatever it was that Archie studied.

He rubbed his eyes and tried to concentrate once more.  

"How you doin' over there?" Archie asked.

Greg simply let out sigh.

"That good, huh?"

"I just wish we had to other shooters."

"And the guns would be nice too."

"Yeah, there's that."

They heard a commotion outside the room and looked up to see O'Riley struggling with another suspect being brought in.  Three uniforms came over to help.

Greg and Archie got up and went to O'Riley.

"Another shooter?" Greg asked.

"Yeah.  No weapon in his car though.  I'm sure they all dumped them during the chase."

"Probably," Greg agreed.

"That guy sure didn't want to go quietly," Archie said.

"No.  He ran every red light and caused a couple pile ups before we could stop him."

Archie looked thoughtful.  "Every intersection is equipped with traffic cams, right?"

O'Riley scratched his head.  "Sure.  Why?"

The AV tech smiled.  "If you can get me the tapes from the route the shooters took, I can find you the guns."

Greg felt a smile come to his face.  "You're a genius.  Almost as much as me."

"I'll get my men out to collect those tapes," O'Riley said.  "You could have them as soon as tonight."  
  


"Good deal."

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AN:  Sorry to keep you guys waiting for an update.  RL got in the way.  *Way* too much goin on at work and with my family.  But anyways, here's the latest chapter for ya!  Hope you like.


	13. Chapter 12

Nick couldn't believe his eyes.  Nigel Crane was standing before him, grinning like a maniac.

"Nick, how are you old friend?"

"I'm not your friend," Nick hissed.  "What the hell are you doin' here?"

"I'm in here, Nicky," Nigel said tapping his head.  "I'm in your head, and you can't get rid of me that easily."

Kristy took Nick's arm.  "Remember, it's all your imagination.  He's not real."

"I'm real enough Nick.  I'll always be a part of you."

"You are not a part of me!  I want you outta my head Nigel!"

Nigel laughed.  "I'm here to stay.  Oh, and I met a friend of yours."

"I don't care!"  Nick was clenching and unclenching his fists in suppressed rage.  All he wanted was to rip Nigel to pieces and pay him back for the hell he had put him through.

Nigel clicked his tongue and shook his head.  "How can you forget Lorrie?  She'd be so disappointed in you."  He stepped aside to reveal a young woman in her early twenties approaching.

Nick froze.  He would recognize his "last-minute babysitter" anywhere.

Catherine looked up from her book in concern.  Nick, although still, seemed to be restless as she watched his eyes moving beneath the lids.  She worried about what he may be dreaming of.

"What is it Catherine?" Grissom asked from the doorway as he entered with more coffee for their vigil.  Sara and Warrick were napping in the solarium for an hour, and then would take over for Catherine and Grissom.

Her eyebrows knitted.  "I think he's dreaming."

Grissom regarded her curiously as he sat down and glanced at Nick.  The young man's mouth was turned down in a slight frown.  "I would guess it's not a pleasant one."

"Yeah.  Poor guy's got plenty to fuel a bad dream," she said softly as she brushed gentle fingers over his forehead.

"Something tells me you're not simply referring to the shooting."

"Well, there was that whole incident with Nigel Crane for one thing."  
  


Grissom nodded, frowning.

"You know," Catherine said.  "We weren't as sympathetic as we should have.  Even though Nigel was going to prison, it wasn't really closure for Nick."  She sighed and burrowed both hands through her hair.

"I don't know if he'll ever truly have closure until Nigel's dead.  And maybe not even then."

"Then when?"

He shrugged, no answer forthcoming.

Greg let out a huge yawn.  Unfortunately it was next to Archie's ear as they studied video from another traffic cam.  He cringed and turned to give Greg an irritated look.

Greg smiled sheepishly.  "Sorry.  Been up almost twenty hours straight."

Archie sighed and went back to work.  "So have I."

"Right."  Greg nodded.  "You were helping day shift."

They sat in silence until Archie spotted something on the video.  "I think we have something."  He froze the video.

"What is it?" Greg asked eagerly sitting forward in his chair.

"Let me enhance it."  He tapped a few keys to focus on a section of the picture.  A few more taps here and there and the image began to come into focus.  Soon they could see two of the shooters tossing their guns out the windows of the vehicles.

"Which intersection is that?"

Archie looked at the video list next to him.  "Ballard and King."

"I'll tell O'Riley."

Nick didn't know whether he wanted to cry, scream, or rage at the two people before him.  They had done so much, each in such a short amount of time, to turn his life upside down when he'd encountered either one.

"I don't want you here!" he hissed.  He could feel Kristy take his hand, offering him support and reassurance.

"Too bad Nicky," Lorrie said with a laugh.  "We're here anyway."

He looked to Kristy.  She simply shook her head.  "I don't know how to make them leave Nick.  It's up to you to figure out."

"Face it Nick," Nigel insisted as he began to circle him.  "We've made you who you are.  We're such a large part of you.  Can't you accept that?"

Lorrie pressed in close to Nick.  "We're the reason you are who you are.  We've influenced you in ways no one else can imagine."

Kristy squeezed his hand.

"Why can't you just admit we've shaped you?"  Nigel taunted.  "Everything we did was for you."

"Don't you appreciate the things we've done for you?" Lorrie asked in a sultry whisper.

"You've done nothing for me except try to destroy my life!" Nick snapped shoving Lorrie violently away.

"Is that anyway to talk to us?" Nigel hissed.  "We've done so much for you."

They were both circling him now, sneers on their faces.  He felt a myriad of emotions wash over him as he watched them.

Kristy leaned in close to him.  "You're the one in control here.  Remember that Nick."

O'Riley and one of his officers came into the labs, two guns each in a plastic baggie in hand.  Bobby Dawson was waiting in ballistics, ready, when they brought them in.  He had a least had a break between his shifts, having done what he could with the bullets from the crime scene and no gun to match them against.

Archie was still looking over the videos from the escape route the shooters had taken to find where the other guns had been dumped.  Then he would work the images of the shooters.

Greg was feeling out of his element, unable to help either tech.

Bobby looked up at Greg where he was hovering in ballistics.  "Why don't you go to the hospital to check on Nick?" He gave a sympathetic smile.  "I'll call you as soon as I get a match."

"Okay," Greg said softly, sounding defeated.

He made his way to the A.V. Lab to let Archie know he was leaving.

"Hey, I'm goin' back to the hospital."

Archie glanced at him.  "Okay."

Greg saw Sara and Warrick sitting beside Nick's bed when he entered the hospital room.

"Where are Cath and Gris?"

"Catherine needed to get home and relieve Lindsey's babysitter and get some rest and Grissom's sleeping in the solarium," Warrick explained.

"How's it going back at the lab?" Sara asked.

"We managed to find two of the guns the shooters dumped.  Archie is trying to find the others."

"How'd he manage that?" Warrick questioned, surprised.

"Traffic cams from the intersections."

"Good call."

"Yeah.  And Bobby's running ballistics as we speak.  He promised to call as soon as he makes the match."

Nick felt like a wounded animal being circled by the wolf pack as Lorrie and Nigel continued to walk around him at a slow, leisurely pace.

Kristy had said he was the one in control, and he tried to hold on to that thought.

"Oh no Nick," Lorrie insisted spitefully.  "We're in control here.  We're so deeply imbedded in you subconscious that you don't realize how much we influence you."

"We invade your dreams," Nigel said picking up the thread.  "When you wake you're never sure we aren't really there.  The way you momentarily shy away from a simple handshake with out noticing you've done it."

"The way you suspect everyone you come in contact with being the suspect in your next case.  It's just for a split second, but it's there."

"Nick," Kristy's soft voice reached him.  He turned to look at her.  "In the end you're always in control."

He nodded and tried to drown out Lorrie and Nigel's voices.

"We'll always be there Nick," Nigel's voice continued.  "We're in here and we're still out there in the real world."

Nick had had enough.  "Shut up!" he shouted.  "Yeah, so what?  Everything you say may be true, but I can push it all aside and remember who I am.  Of course with all the shit you've put me through I have nightmares and harbor a little suspicion toward people!  I'm human.  But in the end I'm who I've made myself.  I've taken everything in my life and decided who I am and how I'll let it affect me."

The pair had stopped and stood before him, slightly wide-eyed.

"Now," Nick said calmly.  "Get out of here."

They disappeared leaving him alone with Kristy once more.

She turned and kissed his cheek, then his lips.  "I'm so proud of you," she said pulling away.

Nick noticed she was beginning to fade.

"Kristy?"

"It's time to go Nick."

He gave her a sad smile.  "Thanks for everything."

She returned the smile before disappearing altogether.

The desert around him began to shimmer and fade and he was left standing in a sea of white before his reality shifted.

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There you go!  The next chapter!  I'm so proud of myself.  It's longer than the last one **and** it's up before Christmas.  Consider it my gift to my wonderful readers.  I'm just so sorry it took so long.  I hope everyone enjoys.

In case I don't get any more posted before New Years I'm just gonna say Happy Holidays now!


	14. Chapter 13

Nick was aware of pain.  He hadn't felt any pain while with Kristy.  He tried to pry open one eye to be greeted by glaring white light.  Hastily, he shut his eye and tried to make out the sounds around him.

He could hear a faint beeping.  It sounded like a heart monitor to him.  And he could make out the quiet hiss of oxygen pushed through tubing. 

Nick tried to move his arms, but noticed his right one felt heavy.  His mind was confused.  He didn't remember his arm being that heavy before.  Or maybe he did.  He just couldn't be sure.

Then the trickle of soft voices reached his ear.

Every noise that surrounded him was designed to be unobtrusive, but it was all failing miserably.  It made Nick's head hurt, along with his heavy, heavy arm and his abdomen.  

He groaned and tried to sink deeper in the bed without jarring his painful body.

Catherine looked over to Nick at the sound.  She took his left hand and squeezed lightly.  "Nicky?"

"Yeah."  His voice was raspy from disuse.

Tears of relief flooded Catherine's eyes.  "Hey," she said softly.  "Welcome back."

Warrick came to stand beside Catherine as Nick opened his eyes.  "You look like shit," he teased; grateful that Nick had finally woke up.

"Thanks," Nick whispered.

"Anytime man."

Catherine helped Nick sit up and take a sip of water. 

"How long I been out?" he asked once he regained use of his voice.

"Day and a half," Warrick answered.

"Sure as hell feels like longer."

"Tell me about it," Catherine mumbled.  "You had us worried."

"Brass?"

"He's fine," she assured him.  "He's just resting in his room right now."

Nick nodded and struggled to keep his eyes open, but felt sleep tugging at him.

Warrick patted his leg.  "It's okay man.  Get some sleep.  Everyone will be here when you wake up.

Nick gave a drowsy smile and slowly drifted to sleep.

When Nick next opened his eyes he was sure if he had the strength or energy he would have jumped out of bed in surprise at finding Greg and David Hodges hovering over him.  Greg looked thrilled that he was awake, while David merely looked bored – and possibly irritated, but Nick thought the man always looked irritated.

Nick glanced around the room and noticed most of the night shift was there.  He could see Bobby and Archie talking animatedly with Grissom.  Catherine was sitting in a chair reading a book and Brass had his wheelchair parked next to her reading a magazine.  Warrick and Sara were joking with each other.

"Hey man," Greg said with a smile.  "It's good to see you awake."

"Good to be awake."

The others made their way to Nick's bedside and David stepped back with a roll of the eyes.  "Well, since it's abundantly clear you'll be fine I'm going back to the labs to get work done."  
  


When he was gone Catherine smirked at Nick.  "He was worried about you, that's just the way he shows it."

"That's the way he shows every emotion," Archie chuckled.

Nick laughed, but grimaced at the pain it caused.  "Please guys don't make me laugh."

Sara looked sympathetic.  "Are you in a lot of pain?"

"I'll tell you what."

"What?"

"I just told you."

Sara looked at Warrick in confusion when he laughed.  "I guess it's a Texas thing," he explained.

"Uh, yeah.  I'll take your word for it.'

"Any luck catching any of the shooters?" Nick asked.

"Actually, they're bring in the last shooter about now," Grissom answered.

Nick was surprised.  "Really."

"Yes.  Archie, Greg and Bobby worked straight through to process the evidence."

"Yeah, and Arch used traffic cameras to id the shooters," Warrick added.

"I am impressed man," Nick offered the three men with a huge grin which promptly turned into a yawn.

"I think Nick needs his rest," Doc Robbins insisted with a gentle squeeze to Nick's shoulder.  "Good to have you back Nick."

"Thanks."  Nick closed his eyes as he listened to everyone file out and let sleep claim him.

By the end of the week Brass was released from the hospital.  Nick found it unfair.  He was stuck in the hospital working his ass off in physical therapy in hopes to be released in the next few weeks.

He was sick of the hospital and he had better things to do.

And he made sure everyone knew.

"You know you sure are cranky when you don't get your way," Catherine teased as she watched Nick argue with his nurse.  He was determined to go outside – even if he had to rely on someone else to push him around.

"Knock it off Catherine!" Nick snapped.  "You know I'm goin' stir-crazy around here.  And the Nazi here," he added indicating his nurse, "doesn't seem to understand that I just want to see something beside institutional, monochromatic, sterile hospital halls."

"Nicky, just be a good boy, take your meds, wait till after they draw some blood, then you can go for a change of scenery."

He sighed, acting the part of the martyr.  "Fine _doctor_ Willows."

"You realize this whining and moping gets annoying after awhile?"

"So I've heard."

An hour later Catherine pushed Nick in his wheelchair in the park behind the hospital.  He took a deep, grateful breath.  The relief he felt at being out of the building was immeasurable – even if it was for a short time.

"Cath, I really want to thank you – and the other guys – for putting up with me," he said apologetically.  "I know I haven't been the most cheerful."

"We understand," Catherine assured him.  "We're all just grateful you and Jim survived the shooting."

Nick nodded, not wanting to think about how close he came to death.

"Just keep working at your therapy and do what the doctor tells you and you'll be home in no time."

Nick gave her a warm smile.  "Yes ma'am."

She smacked his arm lightly.  "Smart ass."

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And the award for the fastest reader to review a newly post chapter goes to vonnie836 – who reviewed within, like, 2 hours after I posted.  *humbly bows*  Thank you!

The short dialog between Nick and Sara that Warrick describes as "a Texas thing" is courtesy of Bill Engvall – on of my favorite comedians.  I've always wanted to work that into a story, specifically involving Nick since both Bill and George are Texans.  Heehee!

I apologize for not posting anything sooner.  Everyone's been wonderful in reviewing so faithfully.  Thanks guys.  And I also apologize if this chapter stinks.  I was kinda struggling with it.  My muse wasn't very cooperative this time around.

Well, this story should be wrapped up in one or two more chapters.  But we'll see – you never know when the muse will decide to add something.


	15. Chapter 14

It had been nearly two months after Nick's release from the hospital when the shooters went to trial.  He and Brass, along with the other survivors were in attendance.  They would have their answers to why this happened.

But the answers weren't good enough.  It was all pointless.  They had wanted to pull off the ultimate hit – killing cops.  They had thought they would get away with it.

The only consolation the victims had was that their attackers were found guilty.  They would never hurt anyone else.

Nick sat on Warrick's couch nursing his now warm beer.  The trial had ended with the guilty verdict hours ago.  They had felt they were supposed to celebrate, but couldn't bring themselves to do so.

Lives had been lost.  Nick had almost lost his.

He sighed and studied the faces of his friends.  Faces far too morose for his own liking.

"Okay, I've had enough," he announced.

Everyone looked at him in confusion.

"I know seeing those bastards rotting in jail doesn't change the fact that good cops died, but neither does sitting here moping."

"Nick," Grissom began only to be cut off by the young CSI.

"Just listen.  Yes people died, and that makes me angry – more than you can imagine.  And yes, I could have died.  But I didn't.  I'm still here.  Brass is still here.  We're alive – so act like it!"

"Nicky's right," Brass added.  "Good men died, but the assholes that killed them are locked away and can't kill anyone else.  Our boys have gotten justice."

Warrick nodded and raised his beer.  "To justice."

Everyone else raised their drinks.  "Justice."

Catherine smiled at Nick and Brass.  "To friends."

Nick returned her smile.  "Friends."

"Friends," Brass agreed.

The sentiment was echoed around the room.

The next morning Nick drove out to a small cemetery on the edge of town.  He parked his Tahoe near the entrance and picked up a bouquet of flowers from the passenger seat. 

He easily picked his way through the headstones to find the grave he was looking for.

"Hey Kristy," he said softly as he placed the bouquet on the grave.  "I guess it's been awhile since I've come out here."

Taking a deep breath he looked up to study the park like setting.  "I don't know if you really were just a figment of my imagination or not, but it doesn't matter.  I know you were never perfect, but you were always smiling and willing to listen to me.  I appreciated that."

Nick eased himself down before the headstone.  "You helped me out when I was on that operating table – real or not.  I was lost and confused – and probably dying.  But you were there to help me.  I'm glad."  He reached out and traced her name with a fingertip.  "I just wanted to say thank-you."

He drew his hand back and pushed to his feet.  "I've never forgotten you."

****************************************************************************

Finally!  I have posted!  Albeit a short chappie – and the final one too.  Sorry.  I won't bore you with the annoying details of my life that have prevented me from posting earlier.  I hope everyone has enjoyed the story.  And I wish I could thank each reviewer individually for being faithful – but that would be at least another chapter in it's own right.  So, you all know who you are!  Thank-you!

BTW – I'm kicking around a story based on Butterflied.  I'm thinking a Nick/Sara/Grissom triangle thingy-maboober.  *insert evil laughter here*

But I'm making no promises.


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